Unwilling Secrets
by Ahn-Li Steffraini
Summary: My only, EVER, selfinsert. Okay, kill me now...


_seaQuest DSV  
_Season Seven – Exalted  
Episode 4

* * *

"**Unwilling Secrets"**

* * *

**Legal Fine Print to Get Out of the Way First**: _seaQuest: Until the End of Time_ and all fan fiction derived from it are not in any way associated with the copyright holders or its licensees. No money or profit is intended in its creation or publishing, nor shall be made or paid. This was done for entertainment & hobby purposes only and is for free distribution so long as the identifiers remain fully intact and only if distribution is free of charge without being subject to subscription fees or likewise.**By Kristan L. Cannon**

**Summary**: An author from the turn of the millennium is surprised to find herself in the year 2037, as is the crew of the _seaQuest_. Can the crew find a way to send her back to her own time or will the hapless writer find a way to adapt in this new world?

**Author's Note**: I'll get this right out the way; it's a blatant self-insert. Only, in the world my insert comes from didn't have a show named _seaQuest_, and so my insert has literally no idea what's going on. Even though this is in the Exalted timeline, and isn't the 'season premiere', I decided to do this one first as a separate story.

* * *

November 23rd, 2012  
Off the Coast of Florida  
Atlantic Ocean  
The _Stormraven_

The tri-maran wasn't considered small, but it wasn't considered all that big either. This suited the author owned it just fine as she typically only lived on it six months out of the year anyway—and even then that was only with one other person.

Said other person hadn't been able to make this trip with her this time and so she sailed alone. Typically she would have never taken such a chance, but there were many other lone sailors on similar boats and so she sailed.

_Andrew always said I was cautious and yet reckless_, the woman reflected, then she smiled. Andrew was working as his busy season had already started at the Ramada he was working at and had not been able to join her this time. But he would fly down shortly after New Years when business dropped off in the cold Northern Ontario city of Sudbury.

Which left his wife, author-turned-publisher Kristan Cannon alone on the tri-maran that they had bought and named the _Stormraven_. It was her quiet time of year as shipments had already been shipped and received by the major book resellers she supplied.

Eyeing a storm that had concerned her since she had spotted the cloud on the usually peaceful horizon, she tacked to sail towards an island that the couple had always used as a stopover to give themselves a break from the small cramped cabin. Even though they loved each other, being forced to live in a cramped living space was enough to fray the steadiest of nerves. And, ironically for a pair that owned a small sailboat, neither could say that they had the most patience in the world.

Much to her dismay, and worry, the storm broke over the stern and soon she was in the fight of her life to keep the ship that nearly broke them financially to buy afloat…

* * *

November 27th, 2012  
Garson, Ontario, Canada  
6:15 pm 

"Dad!" cried a young man. "Come check out the news…"

The older man walked into the living room to watch the news as his cousin's face flashed across the screen.

"_And rescue teams called off the search for the missing _Stormraven_ and its young captain, the publisher Kristan Cannon, due to harsh weather conditions. Although no trace of either Cannon or her tri-maran sailboat has been found, searchers have not given up hope in either finding Cannon or recovering her body_."

"Oh my God," murmured Raymond. "Kris…"

* * *

PART ONE: Reading Too Much Into Things

November 16th, 2037  
150km East of the Florida Coast  
The _Redeemer  
_7:12 hours

"No way, the best book ever written was not _Lord of the Rings_, it was _Don Quixote_ by Cervantes," maintained Lieutenant Mara Johensen, the communications officer. "Tolkien's work may have broken ground for fantasy in popularity, but there were many, many other better fantastical works than his."

The executive officer of the _Redeemer_, Commander Timothy O'Neill shook his head and responded, "I think you're both wrong. The best book ever written was neither Quixote or _Lord of the Rings_… any _Lord of the Rings_… it was Nietzsche's work, _The Divine Comedy of the Ten Layers of Hell_."

Lieutenant Commander William Shan, the head of security and Lieutenant Johansen looked at O'Neill in surprise. "Somehow that doesn't entirely surprise me," remarked Shan.

At that moment, Commodore Benjamin Krieg, the commander of the Redeemer, walked onto the bridge. "Listen up everybody," he began. "The Aurora picked up a faint distress signal just East of our location. Now, Admiral Bridger would go after this one but an aircraft carrier would not only be overkill, but might miss a boat of this size if she's swamped."

"What are we looking for, sir?" asked Lieutenant Commander Miguel Ortiz, the third in command, who, while had been about to go off duty and had only stuck around long enough to hear the three-way argument between Shan, Johansen, and O'Neill.

"A tri-maran, registering as the _Stormraven_," answered Krieg.

He missed the glance between the same said three crewmembers. O'Neill spoke up, "Ah, sir, that's impossible."

"How so, Commander?" asked Krieg.

"Because the _Stormraven_ sank almost twenty-five years ago, in fact, it would be twenty-five years ago this month… in a few days to be exact," answered O'Neill. "Neither the boat or the Captain, a publisher in Canada, were found."

Krieg crinkled his brows, "Wouldn't be the first time something strange happened…"

* * *

November 16th, 2037  
The _Stormraven  
_Bridge 

"Mayday, this is the _Stormraven_," Kristan called into the mike as the water splashed over the deck again.

_My poor baby… Andrew is going to kill me_… she reflected. _If I don't die out here first_…

The port pontoon had sheared off and the starboard pontoon had taken a nasty enough scrape to make it fill up with water. Ironically, the latter was a blessing in disguise as the weight of the water in the pontoon counterbalanced the boat even while she listed to the port and was far too low into the water. She didn't like to say it, nor think it, but the _Stormraven_ was rapidly sinking. Given the temperature of the water even if she was off the coast of Florida she would die of hypothermia and exposure if she didn't drown.

"Mayday, mayday, this is the _Stormraven_. Any ships within the sound of my voice, I'm taking on water and sinking fast. I've lost my port pontoon and the starboard is filled with water," she repeated. "My location is unknown as my equipment is fried but last reliable location was sixty nautical miles off the Coast of Florida in the Atlantic. Someone, anyone, come in please!"

One more crack of lightening in the angry skies above and Kristan closed her eyes, already resigned to her fate.

* * *

The _Redeemer  
_Same day  
Bridge 

"Mara, anything?" asked Krieg.

"It's faint," answered Lieutenant Johansen. "But I've got her."

"Open a channel, Lieutenant, and let's give the lady some hope."

* * *

The _Stormraven_

Kristan huddled into the small open-air cockpit bridge trying to keep warm as the rain ran rivulets down her face. She had been calling her mayday for the better part of the day and still no one had answered. Hope seemed far away even as she dressed herself in the wetsuit designed to keep her warm while diving in Canada and a lifejacket. The only thing she held onto was her GPS in the vain hope that if they had anything to track her by at least it would tell them where to look.

"_Stormraven_, this is the _Redeemer_," a voice crackled through the radio. "Come in, _Stormraven_ and tell us we're not too late."

She sat up straighter, and scanned the horizon. She saw nothing that would indicate a close by ship. There were no lights and no shapes… nothing to suggest another boat _that_ close.

"_Redeemer_, this is the _Stormraven_," she answered. "What's your location? I'm seriously taking on water and may have to abandon ship before you get here."

"_Stormraven_, this is _Redeemer_. We have you in sight," answered the man on the other end.

_What?!_ Kristan took another look around in surprise. If they could see her, why could she not see them? Hope fell flat. If she couldn't see them then what they must have would be another boat… "_Redeemer_, you must be mistaken… I can't see you so you can't see me…"

There was a dry chuckle, "No, _Stormraven_… we have you right in our sights."

Abruptly the water lit up underneath the _Stormraven_ and she felt her hopes raise again.

A submarine had just rescued her.

* * *

The _Redeemer  
_Med Bay  
November 16th, 2037  
16:01 hours 

Commodore Krieg walked into the medbay where Doctor O'Connor was just finishing patching up the last of the young woman's cuts. Kristan Cannon was a short woman of a muscular build. In fact, she reminded him of a pit bull.

If a pit bull had short dark brown hair and suspicious, if grateful for being alive, hazel eyes. She was pale too but that could have been due to the nearly twenty-four hours spent on a sinking boat. Thinking of which, and he smiled as he walked up to her, "Captain… welcome to the Redeemer, I'm Commodore Benjamin Krieg and I command this ship."

"Commodore, thank you for saving my skin," she answered. "My husband will be grateful as well."

_I'm sure he will_, mused Ben. _To have his wife come back from the dead after twenty-five years_… "That leads me to my next question, Ms. Cannon, is who you really are. You can't be Kristan Cannon—she's dead."

"Excuse me?" her response was flat. "Yeah, I nearly was, but you rescued me… unless, of course, you plan on throwing me back…"

"Wouldn't dream of it, but the question still stands," his tone turned icy. "So, who are you?"

"I'm me! My name is Kristan Leah Cannon," she angrily spat back. "I was born in Kirkland Lake, Ontario, raised in North Bay, Ontario, and I live in Sudbury, Ontario and run a publishing company in Blind River, Ontario. Of course… this is in Canada… speaking of which… I'll want to speak to my embassy if you won't help me get home. Then I'll be out of your hair."

"You can't be," said Krieg coldly. "Because that Kristan Cannon that you claim to be died just under twenty-five years ago. Neither her body nor her boat, the _Stormraven_, was ever found… until now if you actually expect me to believe what you've just told me."

* * *

PART TWO: History Bites

If it were possible, her already pale complexion went even paler as she turned as white as her sheets. "That's… that's not possible…" she said. "My instruments only went wonky fourteen hours ago… and it was November 23rd…"

Krieg nodded, seeing her distress he had decided to take a gentler route to determine her identity. "It's November 16th, in the year 2037," he supplied.

"Thirty years…" she leaned back into the pillows. "My God, I haven't even aged… everyone else will have gone on with their lives without me… Andrew…"

"Andrew?" his eyebrows lifted. "Andrew Cannon?"

"No, Andrew Nixon, my husband… we were supposed to meet in the Keys and have our Winter vacation and sail back up to Canada together in early April," she answered. "The _Stormraven_ was our first major purchase because it was something both of us wanted."

"I'm sure he'll be happier to see you," said Krieg, surprised about the first question.

Typically, most impostors asked first about money and possessions that were recoverable and not lost loves and a lost boat that was bought as a first shared purchase. A doubt crept into his mind, _What if she's telling the truth? It wouldn't be the first time something like this happened… the whole _seaQuest_ disappeared for ten years_… "Do you remember anything in between?"

"No," she answered. "One minute I was trying to outrun a storm to safe port and the next I was calling a mayday."

O'Connor came back and motioned Krieg over, "I compared her teeth patterns and fingerprints to records back in her home town of Blind River… and they match, Ben."

Krieg looked back at the young woman on the bed, and then back at James O'Connor, "This isn't like ten years for middle aged adults… this is _twenty-five years_…!"

O'Connor shrugged, "You asked me to find her true identity, and I did. She's telling the truth Ben… she's really Kristan Cannon."

* * *

November 27th, 2037  
The _Redeemer  
_Wardroom 

"For a submarine, its not very cramped," she remarked as she watched Darwin swim by in the aqua tube. "I must admit that I am impressed with everything. I didn't expect a military vessel to have so many civilians on board."

"We aren't wholly military," answered Krieg. "We have a full scientific complement on board with two full decks dedicated to research. So… what'd you do back in Blind River to be printed at your local OPP detachment?"

"Absolutely dick all," she answered. "I worked in a Radioshack that happened to be broken into and we all had to be printed so that they could pick up a print that didn't belong by process of elimination. The only mark I ever had against me was a few speeding tickets. I'm too busy to think about getting into trouble."

"Fair enough," said Krieg. "So… what do you plan on doing when you return to Canada?"

"I don't know. I imagine that my company reverted to the control of my assistant manager upon by presumed death, Andrew has quite possibly remarried and the family that remembers me is either dead or out of reach," she answered. "My family is full of contract electricians of the mining type… they could be _anywhere_…"

Krieg could sympathize with that. "So you won't try to take back your company?"

"What would be the point? Twenty-five years is a long time to miss in my industry. All I can do is go back to my writing until I get back into the game again," she turned back to face him. "I'll likely have to go back to school. No, if it has survived under Rob's care this long it can continue under his care until I'm back up to speed."

He nodded, "Perhaps, too, we can find a way to send you back to your time so that you don't miss all this time."

"Perhaps," she said. "Wait, you think you might be able to?"

"I'll confess that it isn't the first time this crew has had to stretch their understanding of things to even keep sane," said Krieg. "Unfortunately, the details of any said missions are highly classified."

"Military classified secrets on a research vessel?" her left eyebrow lifted in curiosity. "Careful, Commodore, or I may think there's more to your _Redeemer_ that you're letting on."

_Ouch_, thought Krieg. _There's more than a _little_ pit bull reporter to this one_… He sighed, as he really didn't see any other course of action. Her entire existence was now classified. Granted, while the whole crew of the _seaQuest_ upon their return could not have been kept a secret, one person could be. People were simply not supposed to disappear for twenty-five odd years and then suddenly pop back into existence without aging so much as a day. "Speaking of classified secrets, Ms. Cannon, you're one of them," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "Unfortunately you will have to get used to living on the Redeemer as it will be your new home until you are… declassified."

"_What!?_" she exclaimed. "You can't be serious! As much as don't feel shocking my friends and family is not the best course of action, I still would like to tell them that I'm alive."

"I can't allow that."

"Then you should have let die then let me live this joke of a life you're about to force on me," she leaned on the table. "And how in Hell do you intend to keep an unwilling secret?"

Krieg sighed and steepled his fingers as he leaned forward to lean on the wardroom table. "We will restrict your access, if we have to," he said. "I would rather not have to resort to that extreme. It's an amazing new world out there, Ms. Cannon, and you are still young and able to adapt. You would make a valuable asset to this ship… and her crew."

"Oh right, and how do you intend to justify that load of BS to your superiors, Mr. Krieg?" she snorted and sat in a chair. "Usually crew members are those dedicated to their ship, if I recall Navy tradition well enough."

"Are you telling me that you're a threat?"

She stopped for a moment and calmed down. "No. I'm no threat to you, but you can't expect me to roll over like some old dog and accept this. What exactly am I to do here?"

Krieg smiled at this point and smiled as he opened a plastic folder. "Well, Lieutenant Bridger was kind enough to dig up some very interesting facts about you."

At this point even she seemed half intrigued, "Oh really?"

"Now, now, you're a legend in Blind River," he chuckled. "If anything you're presumed death at the very height of your success attracted even more attention to both your company and your home town."

"Really?"

"Yes, Cameco brought a lot of business to Blind River, but Cat's Eye Publishing ushered in a new element that they had never seen; a white collar job market. Professionals. Part-timers that had to dress up to go to work…" he read the information on the company directly from the information part of the website; information that Lucas Bridger had printed for him. "Let's see here, and this is right from your site, I might add, 'Cat's Eye Publishing started as a one-person company that swiftly grew to employ five individuals across Northern Ontario in mid-2005, each running a different aspect of the company as it outgrew the capability to be run by one single person. In 2008, the company exploded and in just the head office located in Blind River, employed over twenty. In late 2008, Cat's Eye steadied at its current employee count of _seventy-six_ individuals and _four_ additional satellite offices in Sudbury, North Bay, Toronto and Thunder Bay.' That's quite a growing company, Ms. Cannon."

"Wow… Rob and Andrew did well…" she mused. "What are they doing now?"

"Well, Andrew Nixon runs the Blind River Head office in your stead and also owns a small resort North of Elliot Lake…"

"Dunlop Lake Resort?"

Krieg looked up in vague surprise, "Why, yes… how did you…?"

"Small communities tend to keep track of their neighbouring communities as well," Kristan shrugged. "Dunlop is one of the bigger ones. It's like hearing about a Sheraton up North."

"Interesting… I didn't realize that business was quite that lucrative in Canada," mused Krieg.

"Depends _greatly_ on the business," she grimaced.

He cleared his throat, "Now, besides your entrepreneurial spirit, you also, at the same time you were getting this company started, you also upgraded your high school and then went to university to obtain your Masters Degree with two majors in English Lit and three minors in E-Commerce, International Business, and… this one I can't see with these majors… _Biochemistry?_"

"I write science-fiction predominantly," answered Kristan. "I had already attempted my technical courses, and failed miserably."

"Ah, yes, Avionics… wait… you have your private pilot's license too, _with_ a floatplane endorsement?" he looked at her suspiciously. "You can fly a plane, fix electronics, and understand biochemistry… and you turn around and run a publishing company? Can I ask whatever possessed you to bounce around fields like a ping pong ball?"

"Boredom… curiosity, and not knowing what I wanted to do with my life," she answered frankly. "So?"

"Kristan… may I call you that?… you have a place on this boat. Not a great one, but it will be a start until you can live out there on your own," he said, leaning back into his chair. "You're still young, perhaps you can find a new area of work that you may like."

"I doubt it, I can promise I can try," she said.

* * *

PART THREE: Unlearning the Old

December 2nd, 2037  
The _Redeemer  
_Sea Deck  
mid day

Kristan was in rare form but for some reason Ben still kept a very close eye on her. O'Neill watched her as well and said, "So… how do you intend to keep her from contacting the outside?"

"I have Lucas on that," answered Ben, then he pointed. "Speaking of the devil…"

In the same room, in fact, two young people swam in wet suits. Kristan swam like a fish and had little else to do on the Redeemer but swim with Darwin and Lily. She was far more successful with Lily than Darwin, but Darwin had reached a point in his life where he didn't seem to have the same patience with humans. He was still _sociable_ but since Nathan Bridger's death he was more _cautious_. He chose to watch Kristan more than play or swim with her.

Lucas, for his own part, would have found her interesting if he wasn't married. He still got a strange vibe every so often. He was used to, once he had come into his own, girls banging down his door.

Kristan Cannon never looked at him once that way, and technically they were the same physical and mental age. Kristan was not a day over thirty-two, while she should have been fifty-seven. Lucas, on the other hand was _supposed_ to be thirty-three. "So… you were into Avionics," he used that as the icebreaker.

"'Was' is an excellent way of putting that, Lieutenant," she had crisply answered and the conversation had died right there.

Lucas was by far not giving up. "Look, I know you're not entirely happy about the situation…"

"Gee, that's an understatement," she retorted sharply. "Let's see, I'm cooped up on this tin can and I get to die of boredom because there is absolutely sweet dick all for me to do and what I can do is useless here. My secondary specialties are filled with people actually qualified to do them, and I can't hope to even compete. Now, do you have any idea how _that_ feels, especially since I went from business owner to prisoner with no control over my life?"

"Can't say that I do," admitted Lucas. "Look, it won't be that bad. You like the sea so this should be like a vacation. You can write to your heart's content without worrying about the day-to-day affairs of your business. Would that be so bad?"

"If you put it that way, no," she conceded, then sighed. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Lieutenant, I'm claustrophobic. I can't stay here for long or I'll simply freak out. And, perversely, I'm also agoraphobic."

Lucas lifted an eyebrow in perplexity, "How can you be both afraid of confined spaces and open spaces?"

"Dark, confined spaces, yes, open spaces, no. Crowds," she elaborated. "Is what I'm afraid of? I also don't like elevators. The _Redeemer_ is a cross section of all my fears and my dislikes."

He treaded water as he absorbed that bit of information about their guest, "So I take it you really hate crowded elevators full of people that aren't lit well?"

"And that would sum up my worst fear, yes," she said. "And the _Redeemer_ is one big elevator to me."

* * *

"Commodore, we have a situation," said Admiral Katherine Hitchcock from her office in New Cape Quest. "It seems that there is a recording of the rescue." 

"How could it have gotten out?" asked Krieg. "We kept the details of the rescue under close wraps."

"Not on Ms. Cannon's side, you did not," Admiral Robert Bridger hit a button in his own office on the _Aurora_.

"_Please, anyone within the sound of my voice, this is the _Stormraven_. Someone help me!"_ called out the very clear, and very recognizable voice of Kristan Cannon.

"Ben," Bridger said softly. "Turn on Earthlink news."

O'Neill hit a button on the communications console of the wardroom table. On the central vidscreen, they watched the news in fascinated horror.

"_Mayday, mayday, this is the _Stormraven_. Any ships within the sound of my voice, I'm taking on water and sinking fast. I've lost my port pontoon and the starboard is filled with water," she repeated. "My location is unknown as my equipment is fried but last reliable location was sixty nautical miles off the Coast of Florida in the Atlantic. Someone, anyone, come in please!_"

"_Earthcast News has just learned, and confirmed that the _Stormraven_ is the same _Stormraven_ registered out of Sault Ste. Marie Canada and is quite possibly the same _Stormraven_ that went missing just a little under twenty-five years ago_," said the reporter. "_The voice does match that of the owner of the craft, missing Kristan Cannon, also of Ontario, Canada from this earlier interview by her local CTV News Station_;"

"_I can say that I'm more than surprised with the reception of both the e-book and of my company,_" said the recording of Cannon. "_All I can say is that the world is finally ready for a environmentally friendly solution to paper-wasting traditional publishing formats, as romantic and attractive the old way of publishing is, this is far more…_ "

"Shut it off," Krieg said and O'Neill cut off of the recording. He turned to the two Admirals in the split screen display. "They know, and _she_ didn't even _have_ to do anything."

"She's still classified," said Robert. "As much as I don't like it…"

"—So I'm alive now, am I, and you still try to make me an unwilling secret," said Cannon as she slammed the door open. "Well, all I can ask is this, are you happy now?"

"Kris… look…" Ben tried to explain.

"Ms. Cannon, it was done for your own protection," said Hitchcock. "There are factions out there that wouldn't care about your health or your well-being. They would see you, erroneously or not, as a possible weapon to be used. Let's face it; the ability to move forward in time would indicate the ability to move back. Think about the repercussions here for one moment."

"I have," said Kristan. "That's why I actually kept your little secret about me being alive. You act as if I don't have a brain in my head, Admiral, but I do, and I know perfectly well what they would think."

"Then you see why we are trying to hide you," said Admiral Bridger.

"Yes, but I have another solution," suggested Kristan. "Make me disappear."

The officers in the room looked at one another, and it was Shan who finally smiled in understanding, "Admiral, I think she means some reconstructive surgery and a new identity."

"Exactly," she smiled. "And there is still a way I can stay on board. You need a PR expert. I'm it—Kathleen Minard, CBC News."

* * *

New Cape Quest  
_Redeemer_ Berth  
December 16th, 2037  
Mid-Afternoon 

Commodore Benjamin Krieg watched as the crew returned from shore leave. Finally a short Native woman came up to him. "Hello…" he said, trying to remember where he has seen her from.

"Good day, Commodore Krieg," she said, holding out her hand to be shaken. "My name is Kathleen Minard. CBC News sent me as an attaché to the _Redeemer_ as your new PR consultant."

Krieg looked close as the woman slid down her sunglasses to reveal a set of hazel eyes. He mouthed the name, Kris?

She smiled and winked back at him as she then boarded the shuttle to take her to the Redeemer. He smiled and then followed her onto the shuttle. "Did you say this was to be a permanent assignment for you?" he asked.

"Actually, I was assigned to the _Redeemer_ for the remainder of your tour. The rest we'll have to play by ear," she said.

"I have a feeling this tour just got a whole load more interesting," he said.

"You have no idea."

* * *

A/N: Okay, there was my Mary Sue/self insert into a perfectly good season of _seaQuest_. I had to do it just once and I have done it. Even though 'Kathleen' will likely recur (unless you would like me to kill 'her' off), I swear she won't have a big role unless asked for. No, she never pairs with anyone. Like Bridger, and a few others, her heart belongs to her spouse and so will be not dating anyone in the near future, lol. 

This was a teaser ep.

The entire _seaQuest: Exalted_ will be coming soon, I swear…


End file.
